Prefect Traditions
by darkmorsmordreheart
Summary: DM&HG. Draco Malfoy is never wrong, so never correct him . . . unless you wish to suffer the consequences. 7th year.


Prefect Traditions

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**By darkmosmordreheart**

**Summary:** DM/HG. Draco Malfoy is never wrong, so never correct him . . . unless you wish to suffer the consequences. 7th year.

**Warnings:** Sex! Descriptive sex! Very, very EXTREMELY descriptive sex! Well, at least to me, it's very descriptive . . . I hope.

**Disclaimer:** The author of this story has no rights or any claim to the Harry Potter series. For this, she is extremely depressed and forced to write fanfiction to fill the void in her life. (lol)

**Author's Note:** HAHAHA, **Uber-I33t Rabid Ninja Squirrel** (I love your name!) I wrote it! One smutty, un-cliché Dramione oneshot, in your face! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA . . . just kidding! Sorry it took forever to do it. I just hope it's not cliché, I haven't really read many Draco/Hermione fics, but I hope this is original. Well, here goes nothing . . . _**–**__**DMH

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The floor was cool against her back. Cold, actually, and it felt as if she would have several bruises by morning, but he seemed entirely unaware of the fact. Or maybe he was aware, she mused. Maybe that's why he was on top; he just didn't want any marks on that delicate skin of his. Just for that, she curled her hands into his back so that her nails dug deep into his pale flesh.

His back arched, causing him to go even deeper into her body, and he hissed, "Don't do that, Mudblood!"

"Don't call me that, you slimy snake!" she hissed back, digging her nails even deeper.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with hand, his other gripping her waist and pulling her pelvis closer to his. "I'll call you whatever I want. Remember, Mudblood, you are beneath me."

* * *

_Two weeks previous . . ._

Pansy Parkinson, Anthony Goldstein, Ronald Weasley, Padma Patil, Hannah Abbot, and Ernie Macmillan all sat in wonder, their heads swinging left and right at the heated tennis match before them. A pale fist slammed down on the table, making them all jump. A shrill voice went even an octave higher, making them all wince. And finally, the battle was held at a standstill.

And all was quiet.

The small audience watched as amber eyes warred silently with silver until a low, almost whispered statement was heard through the room.

"Well, I'm Head Boy and what I decide stands."

Even Pansy gasped at that statement and all eyes flew to their current Head Girl. She lifted her head, her thick, almost bushy curls flying back across her shoulders as she squared them. "And what does that have anything to do with anything, Draco? I hold the same title as you."

"No, you don't," he corrected slowly, his voice slightly hoarse from all the yelling he had done only moments before. "I am clearly a man, _Hermione_."

She flinched at the way he said her name; as if it tasted disgusting in his mouth. "Yet your title presents you as a boy, _Draco_."

"Well, _Hermione_," he growled through straight, white, and clenched teeth. "I am just stating that the school tends to look to me, as Head Boy, rather than you, as Head _Girl_, when decision making comes into play. Females are notorious for letting their . . . _feelings_ get in the way when making decisions. Especially in those decisions where friendships are involved."

Anthony had the nerve to nod his head so his fellow Ravenclaw prefect, Padma, reached across the table and wacked his arm, hopefully slapping some sense into him.

"That is the most sexist statement," Hermione said, her face turning red and her hands clenching into tight red fists. "That I have ever heard and it utterly disgusts me that our headmaster would ensure such a bigoted fool as yourself with the responsibilities your _title_ holds."

All watched as Draco clenched his fist so tight that his knuckles were even whiter than they had been originally. "How dare you call me a bigoted fool, you wool-headed beaver!"

"How dare I? You dare! You-you slimy-haired git!" she shouted back, her voice on the same level as his.

"Cow-faced proletarian!"

"Dart-faced snob!"

"Petulant bitch!"

"Conceited ass!"

"Mu---Argh!" Suddenly, Draco found himself with an armful of Pansy Parkinson, flat on his back on the cold stone floor. "What the bloody hell, Pans!"

"Shut up, Draco," the brunette screeched, 'accidentally' elbowing her best friend in the gut. "Shut up before you say something _stupid_ in front of all the other prefects."

The blond flushed after finally looking up and seeing all the eyes that could see him. He rolled Pansy off of him (and his gut) and stood, brushing at the nonexistent dust on his cloak. "Seven year prefect meeting adjourned, you all may leave."

Several mouths swung open, while eyes widened, and an audible gasp was heard.

"Draco, we've only been here fifteen minutes and we haven't---" Ernie began and ended abruptly when cold, silver eyes trained themselves on his face.

"I said meeting adjourned. The Head Girl and I have several matters to discuss."

Pansy, after pulling herself off the floor, rolled her eyes and sauntered to the closed door, then stopped and waited. Anthony quickly rushed up to open it for her and she smiled prettily at him before giving a final wave of goodbye to Draco. Anthony's excited gushes and babbling could be faintly heard as the pair headed out together. Soon all the other prefects left out after gathering their things, until the only ones left were Draco, Hermione, and Ronald Weasley.

"Do you want me to wait outside, 'Mione?" the redhead asked, concern in his voice and expression.

"No, that's okay, Ron," she replied, patting his shoulder gently and not noticing how his neck and ears erupted in crimson at the contact. The tall Gryffindor smiled goofily at her for a moment before turning away and walking out the door, not before sneering at Draco first, of course.

And with a quiet click of the door, the only two left in the Prefect Study were the two Heads of their class.

Draco gestured towards the couch across the room and turned away from her to walk slowly to it. When he was settled and she sat next to him---as far away as the couch allowed---he set his back rigid and gave her a cool look. "I sense some hostility from you."

She arched an eyebrow and gave a humorless bark of laughter. "_Really_? I don't see that at all."

"I'm serious, Granger. Every point that I ever make, you always counter it."

"I do not!" she countered.

"You just did!" He sighed deeply and looked away from her, running his hand through his smooth blonde locks. "I'm trying to stay calm and fair. I know that you---"

"Can't stand you?" she finished.

"---that you and I find it hard to get along," he continued. "But I want to put all of that behind us."

"What are you proposing?"

"A truce. When we present ideas to the other prefects, we do it in an ordered, dignified manner as a unified whole---"

"You just want me to nod my head like a good girl and agree with everything you say," she deduced, leaning close to him so he could hear the full impact of the anger in her voice.

"I didn't---"

"You don't want a truce! I know you don't! You were just about to call me a Mudblood just now," she snapped, her amber eyes flashing gold with her emotion.

"I was not!" he exclaimed, haughtily, a practiced look of shock on his face.

"Don't lie, Malfoy. It's written all over your face," she snarled, standing up and storming across the room to where the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Rulebook sat serenely on the bookshelf. "I can't believe you!"

A platinum blonde eyebrow shot up as Draco watched the young witch rip the giant volume from its place and carried it easily it to the table. She dropped it with a loud _THUD_ that almost made him jump and immediately began thumbing through the thick, yellowed pages.

"What are you doing, Granger?"

"What does it look like, you caustic moron? I'm looking through the rules to see where it says the Head Boy can overrule the Head Girl!"

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four."

She looked up at him with clear and apparent disbelief. "You cannot be serious. It's not in here."

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four," he insisted, standing up and striding across the room. "I looked it up for moments exactly like this."

She mumbled under her breath at him as he gently pushed her out of the way to turn to the accused page. As his long, lean fingers gently flipped through the pages and she looked up at him and instantly regretted it. She had never once stood so close to Draco Malfoy. She had never noticed how his eyelashes seemed not to have a trace of color in them, they were so light. She never noticed how sharply slanted his cheekbones were or how smooth and milky white his skin actually was. She wanted to reach up and touch him just to make sure that he was real and not just a vision of an angel her mind was projecting.

"Here," he said triumphantly, tapping a long, pale digit over the offending article. She read the space above where his finger lay and frowned when she saw, sure enough, the horrible, ugly truth:

_In decision making, if no parties can agree on the most effective course__ of action, all responsibilities fall to the Head Boy and Girl. If the matter is not settled between the two, the Head Boy reserves the right to overrule the Head Girl and all other argumentative parties._

"That's not possible," she sighed softly.

"But it is, Granger," he said softly, dipping his head down so he could whisper in her ear and cause her to shiver. "Are you sad that, for once, I am correct and you are not?"

"It's not that," she snapped, standing up straight and pulling away from both him and the book. "I'm just shocked at how barbaric the rules are. Why should the male have the advantage over the female? That's not democratic at all."

Suddenly, though she had moved far, far away from him, the Head Boy was standing right beside her again, a little too close for comfort. He brushed his silvery hair from his eyes and directed a true, dazzling smile in her direction. "It's not barbaric, it's tradition, Granger, and democracy doesn't exist in tradition. Only---"

"Dictatorship?"

"Survival of the fittest," he murmured, this time even closer to her ear, blowing warm air against it. "You have to admit, males do tend to be the fittest."

Amber eyes closed involuntarily as the thought of exactly _how_ fit Draco Malfoy was ran through her head. She forced them open and turned her head to face him, accidentally sending her brown sugar curls brushing against his curving lips. His eyes were so pale, she mused. Such a pale silver; as if they were originally meant to be colorless.

She was _way_ too close.

She put her hand up, flat against his chest to push him away, but he lifted his own hand and held it tight against hers so that she was pinned to him and forced to feel the rapid beating underneath her fingertips.

"Draco . . ."

"Just admit it," he insisted softly, leaning forward to brush his lips against her hair again. "Say that you're mad about being incorrect for the first time in your life. For being proved wrong."

"Draco . . ."

"Say it."

"Dra---" He cut her off by the swift taking of her lips. Her chest tightened and she was pulled tightly against his so that their bodies were flushed together, their hands wedged between them. His tongue was teasing her top lip with the tip to gain inside access, but she refused him, so he took his other hand and yanked her head back by her hair. She gasped and left herself wide open for his taking.

Draco Malfoy kissed as if he was never going to get a chance to kiss again. He absolutely devoured her mouth. He dominated it and she enjoyed it. She moaned and clutched at him, anywhere she could reach. Her hands were fisted in his cloak, were buried in his hair, and gliding up and down his back; she had almost no control over where they would go.

She didn't even realize the moment she and he became horizontal, let alone how they got back to the table, but, sure enough, he was pushing her back across it. His hands were in her cloak, around the area of her chest, his thigh was between her legs, and his wet, hot mouth was press against her neck. Her head fell back and she clutched at him, yelping when he pressed his erection into her hip. She allowed him to begin to remove her clothing with no argument. Her cloak was yanked from her arms and back, her sweater yanked over her head and her skirt yanked up so high that the hem of it tickled the tops of her thighs. It wasn't until his fingers traced over the buttons of her crisp white shirt that she panicked.

"Draco?! What are you doing?" she gasped, sitting up and trying to push the panting Slytherin off of her.

"I thought . . . You were . . . What?" he asked breathlessly, at a total loss for words.

"I'm . . . _muggle-born_!" she said, whispering the last word, loudly. "You call me Mudblood! You hate me!"

A slick smile spread over his face and he leaned forward to say against her lips, "Yes, this is true, but that doesn't mean anything now. You know, a man likes to get dirty every once in a while."

She had no idea why such an offensive line was such a turn-on at that moment, but she didn't argue it and simply allowed him to press her back into the table.

"Oh God, Hermione," he moaned against her throat, his tongue tracing the line of it as his fingers unhooked button after button down her front. The shirt was soon off of her and he climbed onto the sturdy table to straddle her lap, careful not to put his weight on her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted and she looked too damn beautiful for words.

He reached around her and undid the catch of her bra, sliding it down her arms and allowing his eyes to feast on the smooth flesh he had revealed. Her wide, golden eyes looked up at him, wanting and vulnerable and shy all at once.

"Have you ever done this before, Granger?" he asked, hastily pulling his robe off and yanking both his sweater and his white button down over his head at once.

"Yes. A few times . . . With Viktor," she mumbled.

"Krum?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "Not Weasley or Potter?"

She shook her head and reddened, the blush creeping down her neck to her chest. He reached out and cupped her in each pale hand. She gasped at the sensation, but didn't close her eyes, instead, directed them where his hands had settled. "Viktor said they were too small."

"Viktor's been hit in the head with one too many bludgers," Draco snapped sharply, gaining the attention of her gaze again. "Your breasts are perfect handfuls. Perfect. I want to suck one entirely into my mouth."

Her lips formed a silent O as he did just that, leaning down to tug a light brown circle into his mouth. He sucked her nipple thoughtfully for a moment before fulfilling his desire and pulling as much of her breast between his lips as much as he could. She threaded her fingers into his pale, silky locks and mewed softly as she watched him sip, suck, and nip at her skin until it was red and tingling.

"Draco, please . . . I need . . . Oh God . . ."

Her voice faded as he released her breast and leaned her back, his fingers quickly tracing down her body until they could reach under her skirt and pull down her white cotton bikini briefs. She gasped as his sharp nose nuzzled the damp, fragrant brown curls he had just revealed and actually screamed when his tongue flicked out to dip in between her nether lips. Much to her dismay, his blonde head immediately lifted and he hushed her, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"Shh, luv. The door is still unlocked. I know it's late, but you still don't want to chance anyone coming in here, do you?"

She shook her head frantically and pushed her hand down to direct his head back where it had been before. "No, I don't! Please, Draco . . . Please!"

He chuckled into her, sending thousands of wicked vibrations up and down her body. She groaned as his tongue flicked out again and bit her lip so not to scream when his tongue began to circle her little button of pleasure. She ground herself against his face, grinning a bit maniacally as he buried his face further into her, his tongue lapping wildly now.

He sucked her bud into his mouth at the exact same moment his lean finger slipped into her and she shattered beautifully in his arms. He looked up to see that her golden eyes were still lit up like fireworks as she rode back down from the high of her orgasm. She groaned a deep, almost ugly groan of satisfaction and he knew then that in that last moment she had held nothing back.

He hands were suddenly all over him now; smoothing up and down his pale chest, playing with his tight pink nipples, and then eventually tugging his head to hers so that their lips could meet roughly. How he ever thought this inferno in his arms was shy, he'd never know, but he just smiled as he moaned helplessly into her mouth. The combined effort of their tongues spread her tangy, sweet taste between them equally and all he could do was whimper and lean into her as her surprisingly strong fingers tugged and pulled at his pants until they---along with his underwear---pooled around the area of his ankles.

"Please, Draco . . . Inside me, now . . ."

He growled with pleasure at the sound of her small voice and pulled her to the edge of the table, where she wrapped her long legs around his waist. "Wait. Wand."

She nodded and leaned back onto her elbows, licking her lips as a taunt while he shuffled through his discarded clothing for the hawthorn object. When he finally found it, his shaky hands quickly waved the protection spell over them and the wand clattered to the floor again, not important enough at the moment to be given another thought.

Her eyes closed in pleasure as she felt the hot head of his heavy erection push against her. His hand reached out to cup her chin as the other curved around her waist and he pulled her mouth to his once more. "Hermione, look at me, please."

Her eyes flashed open and gold warred with silver merely a moment before he gave a hard thrust forward and was inside her. Both growled in fierce pleasure and their bodies began to move rhythmically, instinctively. Her hands curved into his back, her arms tight around him, holding on tightly as the rode the euphoric wave of ecstasy they had created together. He pulled her tighter to him until she was literally cradled in his arms and his thrusts became faster and harder still. His eyes began to roll back as he felt her little tongue dart out and collect the salty drops of sweat that had accumulated at his neck, so he wedged his hand between them and began to play with her tight little bud.

"Mmm . . . Yes! Draco! Yes! . . . Mmm . . . Please . . . Uhhhhh, yes!" she gasped out over and over as the tips of his fingers teased her to another mind-blowing orgasm. "Draco! Don't stop . . . Ooohhh, harder!"

He complied, pushing his hips harder, and pressed his fingers hard onto her button, releasing himself into her as she clenched around him. They both screamed, neither caring if the whole school ran into the room at that moment and they collapsed onto the cold stone floor, pleasure numbing any pain they could have felt from the fall.

The pair struggled to catch their breath, staring at one another intently, with questions in their eyes.

"I can't believe we just did that," she said, pressing her forehead against his sweat dampened chest. He lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers and planted a light kiss on her lips before leaning back onto the floor. They stared in silence at the ceiling above them and waited for the sweat on their bodies to cool.

"Never tell anyone I did this with you," he said lazily, his fingers playing with the edges of her brown sugar curls.

"Why would I?" she said, trying to snap, but failing, her voice still far too husky and low. "I'm ashamed."

"Me too, Mudblood," he yawned.

"Me more, Snake," she breathed.

* * *

_Two weeks later . . ._

She had no idea how she managed to pull her wrists from his strong grasp, but soon she was pushing him over and straddling his lap, impaling herself with his hardness over and over and over until their bodies clenched and they came, long and hard, each shouting the other's name.

She collapsed on his chest and listened with satisfaction to his groan of pain.

"I'm going to bruise."

She smiled, lifted her head, and planted a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. "Of course you are."

His grin was lazy as his hands ran up the back of her thighs and caressed her behind. "I hate that you're so right all the time."

She smiled and reached over to the giant rulebook that lay on the floor beside them and turned to page three hundred and ninety-four:

_In decision making, if no parties can agree on the most effective course of action, all responsibilities fall to the Head Boy and Girl. If the matter is not settled between the two, the Head Boy reserves the right to overrule the Head Girl and all other argumentative parties._

Her smile only widened as she turned to page three hundred and ninety-five:

_However, if the Head Girl excels __over __the Head Boy in an __academic__ aspect, she reserves the right to overrule the Head Boy and all other argumentative parties._

"I don't," she said, putting the book down and snuggling into her boyfriend's hot body.

"That's a dumb rule."

"No, it's not. It's a tradition," she informed him, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"Traditions suck."

"Aw, don't act like a baby."

"Don't call me that!" he snapped, his silver eyes flashing. She merely chuckled and straddled his lap.

"I'll call you whatever I want. Remember, Draco, you are beneath me."

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**Author's Note:** So there it is! My first Dramione! Tell me how you liked it! Tell me what clichés I used! And thanks for reading. _**–DMH**_

p.s. I'm really happy I got to use one of my favorite lines in this story. "Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four." LOL


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